


Exposed Nerve

by aguwustdick (sugandrew)



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 22:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18157772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugandrew/pseuds/aguwustdick
Summary: The physical (and psychological i guess) consequences of Five’s time travels.





	Exposed Nerve

Time travel can screw with your body and your mind. The first time he did it was for his pride, the second was to save the world, and the third one was to save his family.

 

Time travel really fucked Five up. Stole his family, his childhood and then gave it back to him when he didn’t want it. He was thirteen again, this was the second time he was going through puberty, and he was alone.

 

He used his powers when he couldn’t sleep, just how Reginald made him do as a punishment. To the kitchen, down the stairs, backyard, attic, and locked rooms, until he couldn’t stay up and exhaustion made everything black.

 

The lack of energy the travels caused both his body and his mind were weak, but, of course, why would he say anything? So when he tripped and fell for the fifth time that week he just got up and pretended that nothing happened, like there were no bruises under his blazer. Not that he would admit why they were there if his siblings saw them anyways.

 

When he woke up gasping, crying, lungs full of ashes and his throat sore for asking for help for hours he didn’t say anything, he just dried his tears, counted as high as he could in all the languages he know and pretended to be asleep, maybe he could fool his mind if he stayed still with his eyes closed long enough. It never worked. If his family saw his dark eyebags the next morning, they didn’t say anything, even though with each passing day they looked more worried.

 

He still remembers that time he tripped on the stairs and fell almost the entire way down, he had to hide his pain for some good three minutes when his siblings asked him if he was okay. Only when he found himself in the comfort of loneliness he allowed himself to wince and tore himself apart to put himself back together.

 

Sometimes he remembered the cockroaches, such a weird texture, and let’s not talk about the taste. When he did, the contents on his plate stopped being the glorious meal he’d missed for so many years and became bugs and mushy canned food right out of the dusty can. He managed to control his gag reflex until he got to the closest bathroom, where what looked back at him from the toilet was everything but roaches and mushy beans. After a few minutes of breathing and coughing, he flushed the toilet, washed his face and left to hide himself for the rest of the day with the taste in the back of his mouth still present.

 

Now I’m making some hurt comfort because I want someone to help Five okay yes thank you.

 

One time his calculations failed when he was teleporting to tire himself out and ran out of energy in a room that, he thought, was empty. It wasn’t, and he fell on the floor of Allison’s room.

“Five? Why are you…” Her voice died when she saw him, laying on the floor, forehead full of sweat and pale as a ghost. “What happened?” She ran to his side and sat him on her bed.

“I miscalculated.” He said, his voice low. “I’ll go now.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Five.” Allison touched his forehead. “You’re burning, what happened? Don’t close yourself on us, Five, we’re here to help you.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Was his only answer, before passing out.

His sister panicked, remembering the time he pretending he didn’t have a piece of metal in his stomach and asked them to leave him behind. “Five, no. Wake up. Five. Please.” She shook him.

He opened his eyes as much as he could (it wasn’t a lot) and looked at her, confused. “What?”

“The last time I saw you like this you almost died, I’m sorry, I don’t want to lose you again.”

He shuffled, pretending to be more awake than he was and failing miserably. After a few attempts to sit up he gave up and went back to the comfortable horizontal position. “Don’t worry, Allison, I’m used to it, I do it when I can’t sleep.”

She was speechless. “And exactly how often does that happen?”

“About, I don’t know, one night, maybe two, per week.”

“So you literally make yourself pass out to sleep one night per week. That’s what you’re saying.” Her tone made him think what he was doing was wrong. Was it? He did it so much he never thought about it.

“Yes, I guess that is what I’m saying.”

“Five, jesus christ, you can talk to us if you can’t sleep, we can make you some tea, maybe just talk to you or play poker until you’re sleepy, you’re not alone anymore.”

“I’m not a kid, I don’t need a bedtime story and a glass of warm milk.” He didn’t like to be treated as a kid, he was fifty eight for god’s sake.

“Diego and I play cards almost every night because we can’t sleep either, we can include you.” Allison looked like she wanted to touch his hair, but remembered how much he hated it and kept her hand on her lap.

He nodded, too tired to protest anymore. She sighed in relief and he drifted off in feverish and dreamless sleep.

  
  


Five still remembers that time he fell down an entire flight of stairs and winced in ghost pain. But if you remember the fall you also have to remember the landing, and he remembered that, too. How could he forget.

When his legs stopped working, he tripped over himself and found himself hitting almost every single step, creating a new layer of bruises to replace the old ones, he wasn't expecting to see his brother looking at him from the floor he just fell from, surprised to see him fall, but he looked more shocked at how unsurprised Five was.

“That was a fast way to go down the stairs, isn't it, Diego?” he asked to avoid his interrogation, or, at least, avoid it just a little longer.

“Five, jesus, are you okay?” Diego ran down the stairs to help him up. He hid a wince when his brother grabbed his arm to give him something to hold onto while he got on his feet and let go as soon as he stood up.

“I’m fine.” He said, straightening out his blazer. “Thank you for helping me.” He turned to leave but Diego wasn’t having any of his bullshit.

“You’re not fine. And you’re not talking to us. I know you spent forty five years alone, but now you have people you can ask for help, and I know it’s hard, but if you keep falling down the stairs you will seriously get hurt.”

His brain was screaming. Don’t talk. The Commission will kill you, you can’t show weaknesses, you have to be healthy or they will come for you. You can’t go there, they will find your book and your equations. They will fuck you up again. He closed his eyes.

Everything hurt so much, the world started to spin and everything went black.

When he opened his eyes he was laying on his bed, breeze brushing his arms and relieving the heat of the marks. Oh no. He wasn’t wearing his jacket.

Layers and layers of multicolor bruises covered his arms, shoulders, elbows, back, everything. Not that his brother could see them.

“Why do you go through all of this alone?”

“I’m used to it, to be honest. And there’s nothing any of us can do, so it’s a lose-lose situation.”

“I’d prefer to know, and I think the rest would think the same.” Five nodded.

“Well, everything fucking hurts right now. I think that’s enough for now.” Diego nodded too.

Baby steps.

Everything will be alright.

  
  


The cockroaches are food that’s not easy to forget, and Five knew that well. He spent many meals having to run to the bathroom thanks to his really good memory. This time in particular he wasn’t invisible.

He almost took pride on how quiet he was. He was able to pretend he wasn’t going to say goodbye to the entire meal in approximately thirty seconds with a swiftness people would love to have, but this time he was a little too loud.

Hands clasping the toilet seat so hard his knuckles were white, eyes dark and pale as a ghost, he barely heard the knock on the door.

“Five?” Five ignored it, but the knock wasn’t giving up. “Five, if you don’t open the door I will, and you know I can.” Luther said. After thinking about it for a few seconds, he decided he couldn’t get up, but he couldn’t tell him that, so he just said “Open the door. I won’t do it.”

Just as he said it, like he was waiting for his answer, the door opened with a loud bang.

“Jesus, Luther, the door is not that strong.” Five’s voice was muffled by the white porcelain, and his brother was speechless. Of course he was.

Using all of his strength, he was able to take his head out of the toilet, to look at him with tired eyes and skin as light in color as the piece of furniture he was holding.

“What happened?” Luther asked.

“Oh, I was just drinking water from the toilet, it tastes better than tap water. What the fuck do you think that happened.” Five said, annoyed. He was tired of this shit. He spat and tried to stand up, only to fail and end up slamming himself against the wall, with the reflexes of someone that was used to it. He breathed, air making his throat hurt.

“Do you need any help?” Luther said, getting closer. Five looked at him in a fight or flight position.

“I don’t, please stay away from me.” He said. He can’t show any weaknesses, and no one can touch him.   
“If you can stand up without any help I will leave you alone.” Fuck, he got him.

But of course, he was stubborn until the end, so he tried.

And failed.

He would’ve thanked Luther for catching him if his skin wasn’t crawling, begging for him to let go.

“Thank you.” The words sounded forced because they were. He’d rather be sleeping on the floor than being touched. The last time he allowed someone to touch him was when he almost killed himself by bleeding out because he’s an idiot.

“Do you know why you puked?”

“Did you know I had to eat cockroaches for years?” Luther shook his head. “They don’t taste good. I won’t specify because I’ll vomit again.” His brother nodded.

“I’ll take you to your bed, and please let us know if we can help with anything” Five nodded, too, but pushed himself away from Luther, teletransporting to his room. Too much physical touch, he thought as he passed out on his bed.

  


Oh God, they were everywhere. Ashes in his lungs, terror in his eyes, he failed again, his family was laying in front of him again, with hard skin and empty eyes.

He was under the dust, he couldn’t breathe ashes because he was dead. His sister was looking at him and laughing, her white violin stained with blood. His chest was cleanly cut open, and it was painful. His sister killed him, and he deserved it. He failed and died. The world was over. Vanya’s laugh was deafening, making him want to cry.

Now he was looking from above, his sister was laughing and the bodies were ripped open. Allison’s throat was full of dusty blood, Luther was holding her, hair scaping from the hole the violin arc made in his overcoat and through his skin. Diego looked like he was going to help Klaus, both covered in wreckage just inches away, and none of them were breathing. It was what it had to be, he thought with indifference. Lo que será, será.

Someone was touching his face. I missed those schoolboy shorts, you’ll be a great successor, his cheeks were burning, his shoulders felt on fire, and the smoke wasn’t letting him breathe. Please stop touching him, please let him go.

He woke up gasping with his face wet with tears and drenched in sweat. Someone was knocking on his door, but he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. The door opened with a creak and someone was kneeling in front of him, telling him to breathe, they were all alive, _what can I say?_ he whispered, then nodded. Everything is okay, he murmured. Slowly he was able to think and recognize his brother Klaus in front of him, worry shining in his eyes like police lights. His hands were in fists by his side like he wanted to touch him, hug him, but remembered how much his brother hated it.

“Klaus, what are you doing here?” He said, voice raspy.

“You were screaming. It woke me up.” Seeing a shadow of guilt crossing Five’s face made him change tactics. “I’m kidding, you scared me. You never screamed. I mean, we could tell you slept like shit, but at least I thought you would ask for help when you were ready. I was going to wait, but you were screaming so loud, you were asking for help, I had to do something about it.” Klaus stopped, he looked like he was going to make a joke but was holding himself back.

Five sighed. “Thank you. I wasn’t having a great dream, really.” His brother nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Five moved, giving his brother some space to sit in. “Sit.” Klaus sat in the bed. “I dreamt with my worst fears.” He said, voice low. “It was horrible.” He sniffed.

His brother was speechless. “That sounds horrible.”

Before he could stop himself, Five confessed “You were dead again. You were all dead. I had failed and the world was over.” He dried a tear before his brother could see it. “Then Vanya was there, smiling, looking at our corpses.” He coughed. He couldn’t say the rest yet. Klaus saw it in his eyes and didn’t push. “Thank you for telling me, I know it was hard. Do you want me to stay?”

Five’s default answer was no, but that night felt different, vulnerable, quiet and weak. He nodded.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!


End file.
